(After the release of a certain explicit movie based on a book, my cinema chain has cracked down on checking IDs to make sure we don’t receive fines for underage viewers. A group of teenage girls, who are clearly between 16 and 18, approach the counter. I know I have to ask them for ID, but because they are so excited and I need to get through a busy queue quickly, I internally decide that if just one of them can show me they’re over the age, then I will let the others slide.)

Me: “I’m going to need to see some ID before I can sell the tickets to you.”

Girl #1:*smug* “Well, I’ll show you mine, since I’m buying them.”

Me: “Sure, whatever.” *takes offered driving license*

Girl #1: “So, how much?”

Me: “Uh, this says you’re seventeen. I can’t let you in. Sorry.”

Girl #1: “What? Let me see that!”

(She snatches back her license and studies it. I watch as her eyes widen in understanding.)

Girl #2: “[Girl #1], what’s the problem? You said you’d make sure that we could get in.”

Girl #1:*in undertone* “S***, I gave the real one.” *to me in normal voice* “Hey, can I give you my other ID?”

Me: “You’re asking if you can give me your other ID that has a different age on it?”